


Again, with feeling

by SHARKMARTINI



Series: On the Relativity of Time [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Baz pov, M/M, POV First Person, Past time travel, Smut, SnowBaz, sorry mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 10:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19130062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHARKMARTINI/pseuds/SHARKMARTINI
Summary: The heart wants what it wants- at eighteen and at twenty-five.





	Again, with feeling

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place between chapters 1&2 of [No Time like the Present](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18230582), and was the original ending of the fic. 
> 
> Does smut really need context? Maybe not, but it's probably better with it.

I’m texting Bunce when he just materializes next to me in bed.

_He’s just decided to drop in. If I decide to let him live he’ll call you tomorrow._

I turn my phone on silent and slowly turn over to face him.

“Baz!”

“You absolute disaster, you fucking _tragedy_ -”

He cuts me off by pulling me into his arms and kissing me wildly, fisting his hands in my pyjama shirt.

“Snow,” I hiss, “you’re going to snarl the silk-”

“I love you,” he tells me very seriously, pushing my hair back from my forehead. “You know that, right?”

I shrug. Of course I know. He’s a moron. But he’s been gone for weeks, and I’ve been out of my mind with worry and anger, and he deserves to squirm a little. Bunce had been no help either, after an initial period of panicking she had come to some sort of revelation or another and told me to wait it out. She’d refused to give any other information, weathering all manners of threats. It had been difficult to threaten her from so far away, but I’ve been quite dedicated. After all I’ve had a whole lot of time to myself recently.

“I went back to Watford,” he tells me. I’m surprised. He’s never enjoyed going back _since._

“Next time you need some space, I’d appreciate at least a note.”

“No, Baz. I mean, my seventh-year self pulled me back to Watford.” He frowns at me, “don’t you remember?”

“Well, seeing as I’ve been stuck here _alone_ , I’d say that-”

He cuts me off, “but you were there, I was just talking to you-”

“I think I would remember if you had defied time and come back from the future for a chat.” I sneer at him.

He just stares at me looking confused. Aleister Crowley he’s such a moron. But I’ve missed him so much. It’s just like him to try and pick an argument after being gone for _weeks_. I’ve half a mind to just agree with him so I can fall into his arms.

How is it this moron can’t even manage to stay in his own timeline?

“Oh,” I say, my hand coming up to my mouth just as he flinches away from me. Figures, Snow is congenitally stupid, but when it finally matters he’s able to catch on just fine. “My memory wipe.” I tried not to think about it too much after. I had spent a few days trying to riddle it out, until I decided well and truly that maybe ignorance is bliss after all. Even now I try not to think about it too much. I hate others knowing things I don’t, and this grates on my nerves.

“That’s why you wiped your memory?” I raise my brows.

He sounds angry, and it makes me feel indignant. If either of us deserves to be angry, it’s me. He’s abandoned me for _weeks_ , comes back in the middle of the night, kicking me in the shin in the process- and after all this _I’m_ the one to blame?

He gets out of bed, and immediately I’m confused too. I have a quick and lively fight with myself over how to handle this whole situation. I decide being solicitous will probably get me better results, even if it means swallowing my pride a little.

“What happened?” I ask him as he puts on his housecoat and glares at me.

“You said- you were the one who wanted to- I tried to be responsible, but you-!” He’s blustering, gesturing wildly, and I want to roll my eyes at him, except-

He finally looks at me, and for the first time I see he’s not really angry. He’s hurt, and maybe a little-scared?

Honestly, I’ve been feeling the same since he’s been gone. But now he’s back, and there’s no reason we should be feeling this way when we have each other.

“Come here,” I tell him seriously, and open my arms. He eyes me warily, but he’s not getting any closer to the door. “Simon, it’s just me.” I tell him pleadingly. Crowley, I hope I can spell my own memory after this. Pitches don’t beg, and I sure as hell don’t want to think about the consequences this will have on my pride.

But it works, and he tucks himself between my legs and under my chin so quickly he puts teleportation to shame.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles into his shoulder. He won’t look me in the eye.

“It’s okay,” I tell him, because there’s nothing he could do that would make me love him any less. Even abandoning me for weeks while he’s off frolicking the in past, apparently. “What happened?”

“You wiped your memory,” he says instead, and it’s a little frustrating that it keeps being brought up. “I made you wipe your memory. I thought- you said you wanted to- and I shouldn’t have- and then it hurt you so much you had it wiped.” He collapses against me, “I hurt you. I should have known better, but I didn’t want to say no, and I hurt you.”

“What happened, love?” I ask again, running my hand through his curls.

He hangs his head.

“I had sex with him.” My heart stops. He continues, “I’m so sorry. He’s just so much like you, and I love you. And it was just so shitty being away, and being so close and far from you- and when he said he wanted to, I didn’t say no. And he was so alone, so sad-”

I start laughing a little hysterically. He looks over his shoulder and gives me a look that lets me know that unless I explain myself, I’m going to be sleeping on the couch tonight.

“When you say you had sex with him, you mean-” I coax him to clarify.

“You- kind of. Seventh year you.”

My breath leaves me all at once in relief.

“You idiot, it’s just me. You don’t need to make it sound like you’re some kind of time-travelling bounder.”

“But you’re not listening. You had it erased, yeah? I remember how distraught you were after, right before the wipe. I remember you stopped going to class and meals. I remember wondering why, but it was my own fault-”

“Simon,” I run my hand through his hair again, “I guarantee you that has more to do with me not being able to handle the thought of never being with you again than whatever it was we did together.”

He bites his lip but looks hopeful. I don’t know if it’s true, but even if it wasn’t it doesn’t matter. He wants to believe it, and I need him to.

“I have loved you for a long time. There’s nothing you could do to me that I don’t desperately want.” It’s stretching the truth, but who knows what kind of depraved bullshit my eighteen-year-old self coaxed him into. Better just cover all my bases to be certain.

“I love you,” He turns around in my arms so we’re facing each other. “I love you.” He’s so earnest. I kiss him because I couldn’t possibly do anything else when he’s right here in my arms. I wrestle the housecoat off him and throw it to the ground. He starts unbuttoning my pyjama shirt and it soon joins his on the floor.

I wait until I’ve slotted one of my legs between his, until we’re breathing the same humid air as we grind together to say, “what else did you do to him?”

He freezes against me.

I don’t think he fully understands the purpose of this game yet. No matter, he’ll catch up. He usually does, anyway.

I reach down and grab his arse, “did you tell him how tight he was? How good it felt to be inside him?”

He’s panting now, grinding himself harder against my thigh. Interesting.

“Did he let you come inside, just like I do?” I lick his ear and he shivers. He’s precious, I’m not even surprised my eighteen-year-old self managed to coax him into bed. It’s almost cruel- Snow is so principled, it was probably morally distressing for him to take a barely legal version of his own partner to bed.

“Baz,” he grunts into my neck, and I know he’s getting close.

“I want it,” I whisper in his ear, “I want what you gave him.”

He stops immediately. He lifts his face slowly, and frowns at me like it’s a trap. It isn’t. I’ve only just realized I had our first time erased from my memory- and I want it back. He’s the only one that can give it to me.

Not that I’m ever going to tell him that.

But the way he looks at me makes me think he knows that this is more than just some fucked up fantasy I’m trying to play it off as.

Before I can defend myself, he takes me in his arms and kisses me, pressing me down into the mattress.

I don’t put up a fight, even though I like to make him work for it. I can imagine a younger version of myself being naïve, eager to give it up to him. I grin to myself as his mouth trails down my body, and his hands are gentle as he slips my trousers off and lets them slide to the floor.

“Oh, Simon.” I can’t help it, sliding my hands into his hair as he mouths against me through my pants. He’s so gentle, sucking the fabric into his mouth and tonguing the tip with just enough pressure to drive me wild.

When he pulls away I hiss at him before I can stop myself.

He raids the nightstand one handed until he finds the lubricant.

“Can I take these off?” He asks, toying with the band of my pants as he dips his tongue into my navel.

“Please,” I tell him breathlessly, because it’s what I want more than anything.

He takes them off slowly, rubbing the exposed skin of my hip reverently before following his hands with his tongue.

I tilt my head back into the pillows.

“Baz,” he whispers, before he licks up my cock in a long, slow slide.

When he takes me down his throat I sob towards the ceiling, stuffing my fist in my mouth, the other tangled in his curls.

I feel him spreading my thighs with his hands and I tilt my hips up, and then the warm, wet press of his finger against my hole.

It’s perfect, he’s perfect.

He takes his time, easing in carefully before pulling all the way out and pushing all the way back in with two fingers. He slides his fingers slowly, like he wants them to know every inch of me. He pulls off to watch me leak as he presses against my prostate firmly, and I whine as he licks up the mess dripping down my cock.

Any other time we’d have been halfway done fucking by now.

He stops for a second, and I think this is it, until I feel the pressure as he slips a third finger alongside the others. I start panting as the feeling of fullness increases, and I tug on his hair as the pressure gives.

“Simon-!”

He’s a generous lover, and often a passionate one. But after all our time together it can be difficult sometimes to remember that he can also be a conscientious one. We haven’t done it like this in so long. I’m already aching with how badly I want it.

He pulls his fingers out, and I whine at the loss. He’s left me so empty.

But then he’s there, right above me again, kissing me deeply as he shoves my wand into my hand.

“ **Better safe than sorry!** ”

I don’t let him pull away. If he finds it difficult to slick himself up while I wrap myself around him, he doesn’t let on. Which is for the best, I doubt I could let him go right now even if I tried.

“Baz,” he licks into my mouth feverishly and I wind my arms around his neck. It feels so good to be so close to him. To look him in those boring blue eyes as we press together ourselves together in our bed.

He leans his forehead against mine and closes his eyes.

“Can I make love to you?” he asks, and I melt. I’ve always hated that expression. It sounds so childish- but right here, right now- this is what I wanted. This is what I needed, for Simon Snow to make love to me like it’s the very first time.

“Yes,” I breathe back, as he gathers my wrists in his hand and pins them above our heads.

“Fuck- Baz.” He slides in slowly, his weight pressing against me as we finally come together. He lets his head hang and kisses me deeply, tongue dragging against the back of my teeth.

“Let me touch you,” I whisper to him when he pulls back to breathe.

“No,” he pulls outs, and I whine at the loss, before he surges forward again. “I’m going to take care of you.”

And he does.

Rolling his hips into me, slow and deep as we move together. I tilt my head towards the ceiling as I feel my fangs pop, and he’s there, pressing into me and over me as he noses against my neck. “Gorgeous,” he whispers, dropping kisses against my skin and I never want it to end.

Too soon the push and pull of our bodies is verging on overwhelming.

“Make me come,” I demand, spreading my legs wider to try and get him deeper.

“Not yet,” he whispers, “not until I’m finished with you.”

But then he wraps his hand around me anyway.

His fist is so warm, fingers insistent on my cock. His grip is tight, tugging just shy of being rough because he always knows what I want from him. What I need.

“Simon,” I breathe, as I feel the tension in me winding tight. Fuck, I’m so close.

“Merlin, Baz. I’m going to come in you. Let me come in you,”

“Yes,” I murmur back, pressed deep into the mattress as he gives in and collapses against me. I moan as I feel him push deep, hand abandoning my cock to push my thighs even wider apart, making room right where he needs to be, where I want him most.

Fuck, I’ve missed this.

I whine as he pulls out slickly, and before I can maneuver myself to grind against his hip he slides his forearms under my thighs and heaves me up on the bed, taking me into his mouth.

Aleister fucking Crowley.

I writhe against the sheets as he swallows around me.

“Simon-” I grit my teeth, but I can’t hold back, teetering on the edge as I push deeper into the warmth of his throat as I come undone. It’s not until every part of me is heavy and relaxed that Snow lowers me back down into the mattress, pressing kisses up and down my thigh.

“I can’t believe I erased that from my memory. I’m a fucking moron.” I tell him later, curled up against his side.

“No, you were young and hurt. I’m sorry I hurt you.” He runs his hands through his curls and grimaces, “it’s been bothering me. I’ve been so worried about what you’d think of me.”

“Simon, you’ve made me quite confident in the fact that I’m rather appealing to you. I have no doubts that a younger version of myself would be equally as appealing. No harm, no foul.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Maybe even more so. He was less of a cocky bastard, it was really nice dealing with less attitude.”

“Liar,” I breathe, “you’ve been fighting all your life. You like anything more when you have to work for it a little.”

He smiles slowly, because he knows I’m right.

“It was nice though- to see that side of you again. I know you’re still the same person, but it’s easy to forget sometimes that you’re softer on the inside.”

“I’m not soft for just _anyone,_ ” I correct him. “Only you. And I have little doubt that if the roles were reversed I’d do anything differently.”

He closes his eyes and smiles, and finally whatever weight he’s been carrying around seems to drop from him. He’s luminescent. More importantly, I decide I could be coerced into a long snog until I’m ready to have him again.

“Come here,” I say, before dragging him on top of me. I may not have had as much of him as I would have liked at eighteen, but now I’m twenty-five, and this time he’s mine to keep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for checking it out. 
> 
> I can also be found on [tumblr](http://sharkmartini.tumblr.com/).


End file.
